Sintown Chronicles III: In Dark Corners

by David O. Dyer, Sr.

  "Dr. Seifret is ready for you now, Roger,” the smiling lady said.

  He nodded and turned to Kimberly. “Kim, I have to go now, but I'll be back next month. That's a promise. Take care of yourself."

  He stood and seemed suddenly to remember Julie's presence. “As I said, this won't take but a few minutes, Julie. There's a waiting room with old magazines and stuff."

  Julie reached for Kimberly's hand. “I think I'll stay with Kim while you see the doctor."

  When Roger disappeared between the double doors, Julie pulled a chair directly in front of Kimberly. “I know we just met, Kim, but I need to share with you some things Spunky didn't mention.” She chuckled. “I guess I should call him Roger. Spunky was his nickname when we were in school."

  Their heads faced, but Kimberly's eyes did not seem to notice Julie.

  "You see, Spunky—Roger—and I grew up together. I had a mad crush on him when I was a little girl and that crush grew to love, although we never dated in high school. He was the big football hero and I was a mousy little nobody. After graduation, he went his way and I went mine. I thought I would never see him again and I sort of buried my emotions, but I never forgot him. Circumstances allowed our paths to cross once more. I'm determined not to let him get away this time, unless..."

  Julie smoothed her knee-length skirt. She tried without success to find some flicker of understanding in Kimberly's eyes. “Kim, do you love Roger? If you do, I'll bow out of the picture."

  For just a moment, Julie thought she saw a flash in Kimberly's eyes but as she continued to concentrate her focus, Kimberly's eyes seemed as glassy and unseeing as before.

  "There's something else Spunky didn't share with you. He's carrying a heavy burden of guilt. He considers himself a coward for not having tried to rescue you. I don't know what he could have done, but to Spunky, it's very real. He blames himself not only for the pain inflicted on you but also for the shell in which you are now hiding."

  Immediately Julie realized her wording was poor. She leaned forward and touched Kimberly's knee. “I'm sorry, Kim. I didn't say that right. I don't think you're hiding. I think the sheer pain forced you into that shell and you haven't yet found your way out. The same thing happened to Spunky. He's out of his shell now, but the burden of guilt is almost more than he can bear. I wish I could lift that weight, but I fear you are the only one who can do that."

  There was no response. Julie leaned back in the chair.

  "Spunky told you about Dad's Place and the cabin. We'll have the business ready to open in a week or so, but it will be a while yet before the cabin is ready for occupancy. I don't know you, Kim, but somehow I think you'd like Dad's Place, the cabin and the pond. One day soon, I hope Spunky moves in with me, married or not.” She grinned. “He's the only man I've ever wanted to ... you know. I'd like for you to move in with us.” She chuckled. “Not in the same room, though."

  Julie's mind filled with an image of the restaurant, teeming with customers and jukebox blaring. “You'd like Ally and Cliff too. You ever thought of working in a store or restaurant like Dad's Place? We're going to need some additional help, you know. It would be fun, Kim. Won't you think about it?"

  Julie studied the motionless woman. “You look so tense, Kim. Would a shoulder massage help?"

  Knowing she would receive no reply, Julie moved behind the sofa and placed her hands on Kimberly's shoulders. “I think you would like Dot, too. It's just a little crossroads community, but it's beginning to grow. We even have our own radio station now.” She snickered. “Every afternoon they have a program called Bawdy Talk. Kim, you won't believe what some people say on the air."

  Julie snickered again and reeled off all the juicy exchanges she could recall.

  "I'm back."

  Julie looked into Roger's somber face. “That didn't take long."

  Roger leaned over and kissed Kimberly lightly on her cheek. “We must go now, Kim, but I'll be back next month."

  "I will too,” Julie promised. Impulsively, she also kissed Kimberly's cheek.

  Julie joined Roger at the end of the sofa, linked her arm in his, and headed for the double door.

  "Spunky."

  Roger wheeled around. Kimberly was standing.

  "Did ... did you say something, Kim?"

  Her eyes remained unfocused, but her lips moved. “No. Thank you. Silence. Yes."

  Roger stared out the window at the thin white clouds below. “I can't figure it out."

  "What's that?” Julie asked.

  "I'm thankful that Kim finally said something. Dr. Seifret said it was the first time she has spoken anything at all. He said it could be a breakthrough."

  It's a breakthrough all right, Julie thought. The terror in your eyes has been replace with hope.

  "I suppose that when she said, ‘thank you,’ she was thanking me—us—for the visit, but the first thing she said was ‘no'. I wonder what she meant by that?"

  "I'm not a psychiatrist, but I believe I can answer your question."

  "I'm all ears."

  "While you were seeing Dr. Seifret, I asked Kim if she loves you. I told her that if she did, I'd get out of the way. I believe that her first word was the answer to my question."

  "You honestly think she heard you, understood and gave an intelligent delayed response?"

  "I'm certain of it."

  "How can you be so sure?"

  "Have you ever told her that your nickname is Spunky?"

  His eyes narrowed. “No. At least, I don't think so."

  "I referred to you as Spunky while talking with her and when she called after us, she used your nickname. And another thing. I don't think she was thanking you for the visit. She followed the words, ‘thank you’ with ‘silence.’ She was thanking you for holding out."

  "Why in the world would she thank me for prolonging her agony?"

  "Although of a different kind, you were both in agony. Kim had to know that, at least while she was lucid. Yet, she maintained her silence. How do you explain that?"

  "She's FBI."

  "So were you."

  "It doesn't make sense."

  "Tell me, Spunky, what would have happened if either of you had revealed all you knew?"

  "That's the maddening part. Unknown to us at the time, the uprising was almost over. Nothing we could have said would have changed the outcome."

  "I mean, what would have happened to you and Kim? Do you really think your captors would have released you?"

  He turned and looked at her. “You're finally beginning to get it, Julie."

  "With no further use for you, wouldn't the rebels have killed you both?"

  "Of course they would."

  "Now I'm really confused. You acknowledge that your silence saved both of your lives but you still carry a guilt complex."

  He put his arm around her shoulders and tugged her close. “There are some things worse than death."

  "Perhaps, but Kim doesn't seem to think this was one of them."

  "Maybe now I can tell you the rest of the story, Julie. Our silence resulted from more that the fact we were FBI agents. Julie and I were close—not lovers, but very close. She shared with me her most intimate emotions regarding her fiancÉ and I shared with her my fantasies about you."

  "About me?"

  "I told you."

  "Yes, but I didn't think..."

  "I remained silent because of my dream of one day sharing life with you and Kim sharing life with her fiancÉ. The guilt set in when her guy walked out on her. We went through all that misery for nothing."

  "You think it's your fault that the bum chickened out?"

  "No."

  "You think it's unfair for you to realize your dream without Kim realizing her's?"

  He didn't answer.

  "Life is unfair, Spunky. There are no guarantees. You gave her a chance. How can you blame yourself?"

  He remained silent.

  "You think there's a possibility the guy might change his mind? Could we find
him ... talk with him?"

  Roger shook his head. “I understand he's married now."

  Julie walked her fingers down his thigh. “A line from a poem just popped into my mind. ‘Hope springs eternal within the human breast.’ Perhaps Kim will create new dreams—new, attainable hopes."

  "Maybe, but not unless she comes back to reality."

  "She did speak."

  "Yeah."

  A stewardess served fruit juice and they sipped quietly, each lost in thought.

  "There's Charlotte,” he said, peering out the window.

  "I felt the airplane loosing altitude."

  He grinned. “'Descending’ is a less frightening word."

  The “fasten seatbelt” sign flashed and they complied.

  "Tell me, Dr. Wilson, what did Kim's last word mean?"

  She smiled, hoping she knew the answer, but replied, “You can't expect me to know everything."

  Julie closed her eyes, held her breath and tensed every muscle in her body until she heard the screech of tires meeting runway. She relaxed and released the seatbelt as the plane taxied to the concourse.

  Julie held her last question until they were safely in her Cavalier and halfway back to Dad's Place. “We made a bargain,” she said. “I kept my end. Are you going to keep yours?"

  He did not look at her. “I said if you would go with me to see Kim, I would do anything you wanted, if you still wanted anything. That's a big ‘if.’”

  "What I want is for you to move in with me and sleep in my bed every night. If you don't want to make love to me, just hold me.” She chuckled. “I don't know how to do it anyway and probably wouldn't be very good at it."

  He turned and strained at the seatbelt. “You're not trying to tell me that you're a..."

  "Yep,” she interrupted.

  "Cliff?"

  "Nope."

  "Nobody?"

  "Nope."

  "Never?"

  "You're embarrassing me, Spunky."

  "Damn."

  "Well?"

  Roger cleared his throat. “To get to my trailer park, turn left on Schoolhouse Road. It won't take me long to pack."

  Chapter Seventeen

  With perspiration dripping from his chin, Cliff shuffled into the restaurant area and slumped heavily on a stool at the counter. He pulled napkins from the dispenser and wiped his face as Roger joined him. “Man, that smells great,” he said.

  Roger nodded. “My nose tells me Ally has the sauce just right this time."

  "Ally? Where are you, woman?” Cliff shouted, playfully banging his fist on the counter. “What does a body have to do to get a little service around here?"

  Ally emerged from the workroom, carrying a container of ground pork.

  As she sat the roasted meat beside the grill, Cliff exhaled noisily. “Must be a hundred degrees in the shade out there."

  "Want a beer?” Ally asked.

  "Water for me,” Roger responded.

  "Me too. Man, I worked up an elephant thirst and if I had a trunk, I'd give myself a shower,” Cliff joked. He studied the expression on Ally's face as she filled two large cups with ice. “How'd the inspection go?"

  "Couldn't have been better. He gave us an A rating, but wants a little more cleaning done in the game room."

  "That's not part of the restaurant."

  "It is according to the inspector. He says customers are likely to take sandwiches back there. He's right."

  "Still, an A rating is good, isn't it?"

  Ally nodded as she sat the cups in front of them.

  "Then why the long face?"

  "We can't use the barbecue pit."

  "What the hell? Why not?"

  "It has something to do with air quality control. The Environmental Protection Agency would have us in jail if we use the pit commercially."

  Cliff drained the cup and held it out for a refill. “I wish we had known that yesterday. Spunky and I spent the past five hours hunting for and cutting up dried hickory in the woods. Hell, we have five truckloads stacked up in back. What are we going to do?"

  Ally continued the process of mixing sauce and meat. “We'll know in a minute. I prepared a pork roast in the oven and ground it up. I hope it's good enough for us to sell."

  The two men sipped their ice water and watched Ally spoon the meat onto homemade buns and add the tangy slaw. She placed the overflowing buns on wax paper squares and served them.

  Cliff grabbed the sandwich with his massive hands and bit off a large bite.

  Roger picked up his sample and sniffed it. “It certainly smells right,” he grinned.

  "My God, Ally! This is fantastic!” Cliff looked to Roger for confirmation and watched him chew slowly and swallow.

  "Close,” Roger said, nodding his head. “Very close."

  Ally prepared a sandwich for herself, tasted it and beamed. “Spunky, not many of our customers will have ever tasted Mom's Barbecue. I say it's good enough, just as it is."

  "Maybe."

  "Take a sandwich to Julie and see what she thinks,” Ally suggested as she began preparing another bun.

  "I hate to interrupt her,” Roger replied.

  "Hasn't she finished that Wal-Mart thing yet? We've hardly seen her the past two weeks."

  "Yes, she finished that ad, but she received other commissions from her agent and has been working like crazy to catch up."

  Ally wrapped the fresh sandwich in waxed paper. “She skipped breakfast and didn't come in for lunch, Spunky. She must be starved."

  "We're going to have to buy a larger oven,” Roger mused.

  "Yeah,” Ally agreed. “The Health Inspector mentioned that restaurants in Lexington use propane fired ovens for roasting pork. Seems that the temperature is hot enough to allow the addition of hickory chips without polluting the air."

  Roger smiled. “You know, I think that just might do it. Cliff, we can buy a chipper for the wood we collected."

  "I just hope the damn things don't cost much. We've spent an awful lot of Julie's money and so far have little to show for it."

  "I think we're going to have to delay the opening of the restaurant a week or so,” Ally said, “but there's no reason we can't go ahead with everything else immediately."

  "You think?"

  "Why not? The store is stocked, the gasoline tanks are full, the games are just sitting there, hungrily waiting for quarters in their slots."

  Roger slipped off the stool and picked up the wrapped sandwich. “I'll run it by Julie."

  Cliff watched Roger walk away and turned to Ally with a wicked grin on his face. “I don't think Julie's working at all. I think she keeps Spunky up all night and sleeps all day."

  Ally snickered. “That reminds me. I need to go to the bathroom. Want to join me?"

  "I thought you'd never ask."

  When they returned to the restaurant area, Carl Elliott was sitting at the counter, sipping a Budweiser. He held up the frosty brown bottle. “Hope you don't mind. I helped myself."

  "Not at all,” Ally said, moving behind the counter.

  "Haven't seen you in a while, Carl,” Cliff said, propping on the stool next to the huge contractor. “How about a progress report?"

  "That's why I stopped by. Is Miss Julie around?"

  "She's been shut up in her apartment for the past two weeks. Seems she got behind in her art work."

  Carl swallowed another big swig of the beer. “I guess you can relay my message. There's no reason she can't move into the log cabin tomorrow. All the inside work is done and so are the front and back porches. The guys are scrapin’ and pouring gravel on the driveway right now. We'll put down blacktop before dark. Should be okay to drive on by morning."

  "You going to do the parking lot out front today?” Cliff asked.

  "Yeah and in back too. It don't need much work other than tar, but you folks are gonna have to move your vehicles into the field for me."

  "What's left to do on the outside of the cabin?” Ally asked as she prepared another ba
rbecue sandwich.

  "The windows are all fixed up and the roof is painted. Sleeping's gonna be fine under that tin roof on a rainy night. We just need to replace some of the chinking. Shouldn't take more than a day or two."

  Ally placed the sandwich on the counter in front of Carl. “On the house,” she said.

  Both Cliff and Ally expectantly watched Carl take the first bite. His eyes widened and he chewed furiously with obvious delight.

  "Wow!” he exclaimed. “What is it?"

  "Mom's Barbecue,” Ally replied. “What do you think?"

  He swallowed his second bite. “I've never tasted anything like it. It's delicious!” He gnawed off a third bite and, with his mouth full, said, “Don't reckon you could spare one more."

  Ally grinned and pulled another bun from the warmer. “We still have a little fine-tuning to do, but, do you think it will sell?"

  Carl washed down the last bite and grinned as Ally placed the second sandwich in front of him. “You pretty thing,” he said as he lifted the sandwich, “when word gets around, you'll have to take on help to keep up with the crowds."

  "What do you think would be a fair price for the sandwich, Carl?"

  "They charge two fifty for a big bun like this in Lexington. Course, their barbecue ain't nothing like this. It's like they are two different things."

  Ally nodded. “They are two different sandwiches. We think we can come out okay at a buck fifty. You don't think that's too much?"

  Carl shook his head as he chewed. “If it was me, I'd go for at least two dollars. It's easier to come down on your prices than go up. Hell, I think I might buy all you can make myself. You reckon you could fix two more for me to take to Sarasue?"

  Ally grinned and pulled two more buns from the warmer.

  "How about the streets in your subdivision?” Cliff asked.

  "Huh? Oh. Finished an hour ago,” Carl said as he stood, accepting the brown bag Ally offered. “Reckon I'd better get back to it after I make a quick run home. Creasy's already sold two lots and has other people interested. That guy could sell hair oil to a bald man.” He grinned. “Uh, Cliff, could I see you a minute?"

  "Sure."

  As they walked towards the store, Carl said, “With all this merchandise in the store, you folks are either going to have to open for business or keep the door locked. I could have stole you blind a few minutes ago."